The Wielder With No Blade
by idkaname
Summary: Sara has finally been shown the truth about Ian, and Irons is finally trully dead. At least, that's what they think. But 17 years later, he's back, and there's a new "weilder" for him to deal with. Notes for plot twists inside. Disscontinued.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: We are not affiliated with Witchblade in any way. So back off!**

**AN: This is mainly based on Season 2 of the Witchblade, but there are some references form the comic books. Actually, there are only two. One: Ian was not created from the stem cells of Elizabeth Bronte. Two: Ian briefly is the wielder of Excalibur, the male version of the Witchblade.**

Sara walked up the two flights of stairs to her apartment, dragging her feet all the way. It had been another hectic day at the precinct: a quadruple homicide, some hints from the Witchblade, and no Ian around to interoperate them. Danny had also been unrelenting in trying to pull information from her about what was going on.

When she reached her apartment door, she found it unlocked. The Witchblade remained dormant on her wrist, which confused and unsettled her. She unbuckled the cover on her gun and pushed open the door. It was dark inside her apartment, so dark that she would have run into something if she did not have her apartment memorized like the back of her hand. She finally found the light switch and hit it, flooding her apartment in light. And now illuminated in the middle of her living room, defensive stance and all, was Ian Nottingham.

"What are you doing here, Nottingham?" she asked, not as angry as she used to be, but still annoyed. "I thought we had put an end to all the stalking, shadow lurking, and breaking-and-entering business?"

Ian nodded his head again. It was true they had come to a truce. After the incident with Lucreztia and Irons return from the dead, it took Ian time to regain what little trust she had in him in the first place. It was a hard and rocky road convincing Sara that she had no worries when it came to him. That he lived to protect, guide, and help her with the Witchblade. To serve her, the true wielder. That he was the one man she could trust.

Finally after much time and coaxing, their obscure 'business' relationship had grown into a estrange friendship. Slowly over time, Ian managed to prove himself in Sara's eyes, and was now a person she could trust and count on. Sara would call upon him for help when it came to the supernatural and downright freaky issues. In return, he would spend less and less time stalking her and lurking in the shadows. She would stop her verbal abuse and he would quite being so cryptic. Yet, even after the year they had known each other; she still held some reserves about the enigmatic man.

However, the more time they spent the more at ease they were with each other's company. Sara started calling Ian to simply talk and he was there to listen. And now here they were, in her living room, and Sara was waiting for an answer. "I came to see you, my Lady." He kept his head bowed, knowing that Sara had had a hard day at work, and not wanting to be the target of released fury.

"About what, Nottingham? And while you're here, I need some help with a case I just got."Sarah walked past him and deposited all of her stuff in their respective places around her apartment.

"Why I came here is rather unimportant. You need my assistance, and I am here to help you." Ian straightened out a little, but kept his eyes trained on the floor. He didn't' want to betray his joy of being allowed in without a single fit to be known to Sara through his tell-tale caramel eyes.

Sara returned into the living room with a file, which she dropped onto the couch. "Nottingham, I'm going to put on some coffee, do you want some?" she called from the kitchen.

"Yes, thank you, Lady Sara." Ian called back, settling onto the couch and flipping through the case file that had been left there.

So Sara busied herself making a pot of coffee for the two. As she was doing so, her mind wandered a bit. Last month, Conchobar had died instead of awakening from his coma. That had broken her heart into millions of pieces. But someone had been there to help her through it, one Ian Nottingham.

_He put your heart back together and added a piece of his own, did he not?_ The voice of the Blade sang.

_No, he didn't add in a piece. I don't see why you're always trying to play matchmaker between us._ Sara growled. The Blade had been rather annoying lately, showing her images of what could happen if she ran amuck with the dashing assassin.

_Oh, but then you wish he did. You are in love with Ian, Sara. And do not try to tell me it is not true, for I know what you think, what you feel. _The Blade was all seriousness now. It had been trying to keep the fate of so many other of its Wielders and Protectors from Sara Pezzini and Ian Nottingham. Many of the others had not found the inseparable love and eternal connection that the two had. And the Witchblade was going to do all that it could to get these two together this time.

Sara stared down at the blade incredulously, but sighed, knowing it was right. _But I can't let him know that. Everyone I ever let in ends up dead. I can't let that happen to Ian, he's the only thing solid in this life that I can hold onto without lying to. And how could he love me after all the times I've hurt him in the past year?_ Sara thought that the conversation was over, so she picked up the mugs full of coffee and started to turn back towards the living room.

But the Witchblade would have none of that. And in its mind, Sara's coffee mugs were easily sacrificed for the greater good. So the Blade sent Sara into one of its famed visions, which sent Sara and the coffee mugs onto the ground.

_How can Ian still love you?! I'll show you how Ian can still love you!_

First the Blade decided to show Sara what her ignoring her love for Ian had done to him. Ian was leaning against the wall of a church, doubled over it what seemed to be pain at first. But then Sara saw his eyes, and in those very talkative orbs she saw the deepest longing, love, and desire she had ever seen in a man. 'Sara.' He had breathed. Then he began sobbing silently to himself. After a few moments, he straightened out with some effort, and walked along the side walk, supporting most of his weight on the wall. 'Sara, you will never know how much I yearn for that to be me with you on a night like this.' He whispered to the moon above his head.

_That was the first night you spent with your immortal lover._ The blade told Sara. _See how much pain it caused him? _After a pause and silence from both, the Witchblade found another thing that would probably change Sara's mind. _How much does Ian care for you, you might ask._

Then the Blade showed Sara a new scene. It was in Irons' mansion, in the main room where Sara had supposedly killed him. But it was before then, for his hand was not in the glass bowl on the table. But Irons sat in his winged chair like he was every time Sara saw him in that room. Ian then entered into the room.

'I trust the wielder is alright.' Irons smirked at him.

'Yes.' That was all Ian could say. He kept his head bowed low and his legs apart, his usual submissive stance.

'Did you convince her that it was best for her to give up the Blade to me?' Irons asked, turning and standing to face Ian.

'No, for that is not true. The Witchblade is best where it is, on Lady Sara's wrist.' Ian spoke with so much reverence for both her and the Blade that Sara felt tears pricking in her eyes, but the willed them away, knowing that there was more to come in this scene of Ian's life.

'You are in love with your _**Lady Sara**_, are you not?" Irons mocked Ian, taking up a cane in his hand and approaching his servant. 'Does _**Lady Sara**_know that? I scarcely believe so, as she would turn you away in disgust and call you a _**freak**_. No, you loving _**Lady Sara**_ is as useless as you trying to keep the Blade on her pretty little wrist.' Irons walked up to Ian to the point he was scarcely a few inches away. 'Your insolence has become annoying.'

Then Irons raised his cane and hit Ian hard in the side. He said nothing, but he doubled over in pain. Sara could do nothing but watch as Ian was beaten and battered relentlessly by Irons.

But mercifully, the Blade soon faded the image away. _See what he will do for you, Sara?_

_That is exactly why I cannot love him! It is because of me that he was beaten like that. If I loved him, that would make it worse! _Sara then let the tears that had wanted to erupt well out of her eyes and flow down her cheeks.

_Sara, you are not the cause of these things. Irons has done that to Ian his whole life. He would have been beaten that night even if he had not hinted at his _**love**_ for you. Let me show what could happen if he realizes that the only way he can help you is to leave you._

Then the blade showed Sara its darkest vision. It was a possible future that Ian could take if he found his life not worth living.

It was in a vacant parking garage of some sort, with a bit of electronic equipment in the corner. In the background, Sara could see herself and her friend Gabriel Bowman running as fast as they could away from the scene. Just entering were five or six cops with their guns drawn. And standing in between the two parties was Ian Nottingham. He flourished his arms under his coat in a way that seemed like he was going to draw his guns. And for a moment, Sara thought that he was going to fight off the police for her.

_His fate is much worse than that._ The Blade told her.

As Ian moved, all of the cops reacted; subsequently emptying all of their magazines into Ian. He fell to the ground dead. But as he fell, he whispered his last words. 'For you, my love, my Lady Sara.'

One of the cops came forward to inspect the body. 'He was unarmed.' He told the others.

_No! _Sara screamed to the blade. _He can't die, he just can't!_ Sara began sobbing uncontrollably.

_Then tell him that._ The Blade whispered before releasing Sara from its vision.

Sara slowly opened her eyes to realize three things. One: Someone had their rather strong arm wrapped around her torso, holding her up, and their soft hand caressing her cheek. Two: she was starring into Ian's worried, scared, and slightly relieved caramel eyes. Three: It was Ian who had his rather strong arm wrapped around her torso, holding her up, and his soft hand caressing her cheek. "Nottingham?" she whispered, just making sure that this wasn't another vision.

"Sara? Are you all right? I was so worried when you fell, you would not wake up and…" Ian was downright distraught.

"Shh." Sara breathed, continuing to stare into his eyes. "I'm fine."

"That is very good." Ian whispered back, boldly staring into Sara's emerald eyes.

Then the phone rang.

Sara made no move to answer the annoying thing, so neither did Ian. They both were glad they had not done anything when they heard who it was through the voicemail. "Hello, Sara, dear. I know that you are there somewhere; and if you are not, then you will be soon. But when you hear this, would you be so kind as to send my Ian home?" then there was nothing but the dial tone.

"I should go." Ian told Sara, breaking away from her gaze. He stood up and helped Sara to her feet before he moved towards the door.

"No, Ian, please don't!" Sara cried desperately, fearing for his safety if he was to return home.

The use of his first name startled him into stopping. He turned to face Sara, fresh tears streaming down her face. "Sara, I must go. Irons will do something if I do not. And that would not be good for you."

"Ian, please, stay." Sara practically begged.

"Why, Sara?" Ian did not know why Sara wanted him to stay. And as much as he wanted to, he feared for Sara because of irons if he was to do so.

Sara sobbed even more as she walked forward. She might have tried to stop the tears because of her hatred for them, but she was focused entirely on Ian. "I don't want him to hurt you." She whispered. She walked even closer and touched a scar over his left eye that she wouldn't have noticed if it wasn't for the vision.

Ian stared down incredulously at Sara, all the while relishing in her soft touch on his face. "How did you…" then he saw the blade "wink" at him on Sara's wrist that she had raised to stroke his face. "You should not concern yourself with that, Lady Sara."

Sara forced herself to remove her hand, that way she could form an intelligible response. "Ian, this is just step one. If you keep going around thinking that your sacrifice is the only way you can help me, you'll get yourself k-killed." She managed to halt the sobs, but her tears were still streaming freely.

Ian's eyes flashed quickly with his longing for the woman in front of him. He thought it was fast enough for Sara not to notice through her tears. He was wrong. "Sara, I live to serve, aid, and lead you." He spoke with the same reverence that he had used in the great room before he had beaten.

"Then stay!" her mind, or it could have been the Witchblade, flashed her quick memories of Ian, her dreams of Ian, and the warnings and loss of the other Wielders that she had been given in dreams and visions.

"Why Sara?" he asked like he had before.

"Ian, I…" she trailed off as her voice broke.

"Yes, Sara?" Ian's eyes softened. His mind was running around like a dog chasing its tail with the notion that Sara might have been about to tell him that she cared for him. But he quickly quelled the impossible hope and dropped his head to hide the sorrow in his eyes from Sara.

"Uh-uh, none of that." Sara murmured. She put her hand beneath Ian's chin and gently lifted it up; nothing like Irons' way by force with his cane. "Ian, the blade has shown quite a few things lately." She physically cringed when the last vision she had been given crossed her mind. "And it made me open my eyes. Which is what you should be doing now." She joked, for Ian had closed his eyes to try and hide them from Sara. "Don't worry, I already know what's probably behind them. Because Ian," she took a breath to fortify herself for the inevitable rejection. Ian's eyes had also popped open. And in them was the same longing, desire, and love that they had had in the vision at the church. "Ian, I love you." She whispered.

Thinking only of retreat, she tried to back up, but Ian's hand closed themselves on her upper arms. It wasn't painful, but it was a solid enough force to keep her where she was. "Say it again." Ian begged, boldly staring into Sara's eyes.

"I love you." She spoke louder than her whisper and stepped closer.

"Again!" Ian ordered, stepping closer as well.

"I love you." She was now touching Ian's chest and her head was tilted up to still stare into his caramel eyes that were screaming utter joy and love.

Ian bent his head down, determined to enact one of the many dreams he had had about Sara. "Again." he breathed.

"I love you, Ian Nottingham." She whispered before her mouth was captured by Ian's.

One thing turned into another and they ended up in the bedroom. That night was what the Blade had been waiting for since Elizabeth Bronte was killed. But it still had two things to attend to. So leaving the lovers to their own devices, the essence of the Witchblade traveled across town to Irons' mansion.

_Hello, Kenneth._ The Blade sang in his sleeping mind.

Irons awoke with a start and the most painful throbbing he had ever felt in his right hand. Blood was trickling down from his brands from the Witchblade. "What do you want with me?" his voice shook with fear. The Blade had spoken to him like this. And he could also not ignore the feeling of forebode and despair that was settling onto him, also work of the Blade.

_I came to give you warning your end. Your time of imaginary power is over, Pretender! The Wielder and Protector have beaten your attempts to change fate. Why do you not see for yourself? _The Blade was very happy to get rid of Irons. It had not had the power before to be rid of him before, but now it did because of the joining of the Wielder and the Protector.

Irons concentrated on the mark on his hand. He felt a fleeting moment of pleasure greater than he thought possible before it morphed into a pain worse than he thought possible. "That is impossible!" He gasped through his clenched teeth.

_Nothing is impossible, and there are no such things as coincidences. Your interfering is actually what brought them together, Kenneth. That is why I will be merciful and cut your tie with the Wielder, Protector, and I. Goodbye, Kenneth. And if I ever see you again, which will not happen because of Lord Ian, I will gladly ask Lady Sara to run you through with me. And it would kill you that time. _The Blade faded back to Sara's apartment, taking Irons' connection with it.

It returned to find the lovers asleep in the each other's arms. The Blade flashed in joy as it moved onto the final part of its plan.

_Ian… Lord Ian, I must speak with you. _The Blade called out to him. It was the first time it had ever called out to a man with peaceful intentions._ Lord Ian, this is the Witchblade. There is something before I let you have Lady Sara wholly. _

**Hello! This is both halves of idkaname speaking.**

**Yeah! We finally get to kick Irons and his sorry little butt out of Sara and Ian's lives!**

**Well, if the timeline has you confused, just send us a review saying that and at least one of us will try to clarify.**

**So, what does the Blade want Ian to do?**

**Your reviews are cherished and always replied. So go ahead and send them.**

**Sincerely,**

**C M + L W = idkaname**


	2. Chapter 2

The Blade told Ian what he must do to truly protect the Wielder at this point. So when he was released from the vision, he carefully left the bed, trying not to disturb Sara, and gathered up his clothes and quickly put them on. The previous night had been the most wonderful of his life. Sara had told him of her love for him, and he had finally been able to live the dreams he had had of her. But now he had to return to his "profession" as the blade had asked him to.

He quickly left the apartment and ran down the stairs to his car parked around the corner. His mind prepared for what he must do as he drove to the outskirts of the city, to one of the many houses his employer and "father" owned.

He entered the pass code to the main room where he knew Irons would be, sitting in his winged chair in front of the fire. As he walked in, all was silent; Irons was asleep in his chair at the other end of the room. "Hello, Kenneth." Ian's voice was deadly.

Irons jumped just as he did when the Blade had addressed him the night before. Only this time he stood and advanced on Ian. "You insolent man, you broke every rule that I have ever laid before you!" Irons shouted, bringing his cane up to strike Ian across the face.

But Ian grabbed the cane. "I have only broken your 'rules' to reach my true destiny. The Blade has shown me all that you kept from me. The prophecy is complete, Kenneth; and there is nothing you can do about it." He mocked. Ian wrenched the cane out of Irons' hand and threw it across the room.

Looking at Ian, Irons believed that he now understood what Ian's victims felt like just before they died. But Irons was not going to have his life ended at the hands of his servant so soon. He tried to hit Ian in the gut, but he grabbed his wrist and painfully twisted it to the side. Irons was now on the ground, shaking from the pain in his wrist. "Why are you here?" Irons shouted at Ian, whose face was an unreadable mask. But his eyes betrayed his deep hate for the man who raised him.

"To end you." He whispered. Ian drew a dagger from his belt and held it up for Irons to see, enjoying his look of absolute fear. "For the Blade, my Lady Sara, and I." Ian vowed before he plunged the dagger into Irons' heart.

Ian did not stay; he quickly ran from the house before security personnel came into the room and found a dead body. He ran all the way back to his car, which he drove quickly back to Sara's apartment. As he entered it, Sara ran up to him and hugged him around his neck tightly. "The Blade showed me where you went. I was so afraid of what he might do to you."

He ran his hand over her hair and held her tighter. "It is over now. We are free. I promise."

**L W here! If you read the new paragraph on our bio page, then you know why it's only me.**

**Sorry it's short, but chapter 3 will be up in a few minutes, I just need to set it up form when we wrote it awhile ago.**

**Anything you want to say, shoot me review. I can still take care of those.**

**Sincerely,**

**L W (the Excaliber wielding half of idkaname)**


	3. Chapter 3

"Next up, ladies and gents; Cosain!" shouted the highly pierced and tattooed director of the rock club.

The crowd subsequently burst into a roar of applause and shouts. Four people made their way from the wing to the raised stage, the last bringing out even more noise from the crowd. One of the patrons in the back of the room wondered how she could stand that much shouting and such almost every night.

The last person who entered could barely be called a woman; for she couldn't be any older than seventeen. Her wavy dark brown, almost black hair hung down past her shoulders, which were hugged tightly by a black tank-top. Her black jeans were almost as tight on her thin legs. When she reached the microphone in the center of the stage, her striking green eyes swept across the crowd, which suddenly quieted. "Good evening," she greeted the room with the slightest of New York accents. "And without further a due, let the ballads begin!"

For the next forty-five minutes, a strong and trilling voice filled the room over an acoustic guitar, violin, flute, and old drum set. And then came the final act. After finishing the previous song, the girl ducked back into the wings, only to come back with an acoustic guitar. "This next song was written by another man. Those of you who have been with this establishment for awhile might know him. This is 'Sara' by Conchobar."

Her voice softened and took on an Irish twang as she flowed through the song that she played at the end of her act every night she performed. And soon it was over. She looked up from her instrument to the audience, sweeping over them again. "Until next time!" At that, the band made its exit back to the wings.

She said her quick goodbyes to the rest of the band, carefully packed her guitar away, grabbed her black knee-length coat, and walked out of the wings to head home. As she neared the exit, she was stopped by a man who came up to her with his usual amiable smile. "Hey there, Bec!"

She smiled back at the middle aged Chinese man. "Hello, Danny. I have my bike, so I do not see why you are here." They continued her original path towards the door.

"Can't a family friend come to see your gig?" he joked.

"Of course." Bec smiled back, trying and failing to hold back a yawn. "Well, did you enjoy it?"

"Yes, I did. And this is a miraculous break through; Rebecca Nottingham is actually tired!" Danny proclaimed, spinning Rebecca around for a bit.

"I am not tired." Rebecca nearly hissed. Rearranging her face into a friendlier mood, she bid Danny good bye, saying that she would see him that weekend. She practically ran to her silver Buell so she could get home.

She raced down the streets to the outskirts of the city, where she drove her bike into the parking area of a large mansion on the crest of a small hill. She noticed that at least the black Jaguar was parked there, though the blue Crown Victoria wasn't. So, in a slightly better mood, she climbed the stairs to the main hallway of her home.

Entering into the main room to look for her favorite book, she found a black suited figure lounging in the chair nearest the fire, stroking his short beard and staring into the fire. "Hello, Father." She called happily, sitting down on the couch with her book.

"Hello, Rebecca." Ian returned back warmly. "How was your evening?" he asked, wishing he could have seen his daughter performing on stage, which is one of the things that she truly loved.

"Loud." Rebecca replied absentmindedly, already absorbed into her book.

Ian chuckled as he crossed silently to stand behind Rebecca. Looking over her shoulder, he chuckled again at the title of the book she was reading. "Have you not read this book many times before?" without waiting for an answer, he snatched the book and set it down on the desk by the couch.

"Yes, but your point is? How many times have you read _Art of War_?" Rebecca threw back at him. She tried to get her book back, but only to have it snatched away again and held out of her reach.

"That is different. This is a romance novel that you have read at least fifteen times." After thinking for a bit, and enjoying his beloved daughter's look of annoyance, he smirked and morphed his face into a business-like façade. "Then I propose a contest; a battle of the swords. The winner gains the possession of _Twilight_. Do you agree?"

"Of course." Rebecca smiled darkly. She rose fluidly from the couch and walked over to the rack of weapons and chose her practice katana from the large collection.

Ian joined her at the rack after he had placed her book on top of the doorframe into the room. He chose his practice katana as well and moved to the center of the room, beckoning Rebecca forward. And she came, full speed with her weapon at the ready.

Steel clashed as they both struck and attack with exceptional speed and strength. At a few points, Rebecca was even winning out over Ian, the trained assassin and Black Dragon member. But most of the time, they were evenly matched. Once or twice, one would knock the sword out of the other's hand and there would be a mad dash for either to recover it.

After half an hour, the door opened again, but neither fighter noticed. "What are you two doing!" shouted a slightly annoyed woman in dark jeans, grey sweater, with a gun and badge hooked to her belt.

"Fighting over _Twilight_." Rebecca answered rather breathlessly.

Ian only nodded, but took advantage of Rebecca's slight distraction and knocked her sword out of her hand. The two ran for it, but Rebecca had a better idea. She ran past the sword and to the doorframe behind her mother. She jumped up as high as she could and batted the book that rested there. As she landed, she held out her hands. A few milliseconds later, the book fell into them.

"Alright, alright," Sara laughed. "Rebecca wins. And Rebecca, your principal called after you left for school, they do need you to play that song on Friday."

"Sure, sure, Mother." Rebecca sighed as she plopped back onto the couch to continue reading.

**L W again!**

**Here's the chapter 3 I was talking about. I know it's still kind of short, but I'm trying.**

**REMEMBER: this takes place 17 years after chapter 1 and 2, which are a year after the cut-off of season 2.**

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Shoot me a message.**

**Sincerely,**

**L W ( the Excaliber wielding half of idkaname)**


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